


Relaxed

by danceswithgary



Series: Ritual [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, Kinks, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-03
Updated: 2010-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-11 10:43:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Awake in the middle of his eighth night alone, John finally admitted he needed more. Sequel to Redlined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relaxed

It had been over a week, eight long days and nights, since they'd returned from P855-092 wearing arcane symbols on their skin, crimson badges and bands that held no meaning or context after they'd staggered back through the gate.

They still hadn't talked about what had happened in that small room.

Remembering how he'd lost control bothered John, left him feeling uncomfortable with how easily he'd broken one of his most important rules: no sex off-world. Being drugged might be a valid excuse for his mistake, but John knew that whatever had been in the ceremonial tea or the dye that marked them wasn't accountable for the craving that had kept John awake for long hours every night since their return.

He and Rodney usually got together two or three nights a week, ostensibly to watch movies or play games, always meeting in Rodney's room with John leaving no later than 0100. The past week had proven an exception, both of them ostensibly too busy, although John knew he'd been making excuses and suspected Rodney had been too. They'd met for lunch or dinner a few times, Rodney talking about everything and nothing while John listened and added a few meaningless comments of his own, each of them pretending they weren't still wearing the evidence.

Rodney's face had looked a little raw across the table, a reaction to the vigorous scrubbing he'd employed to erase the lines that had bisected his eyes and cheeks. When John looked closer, unable to resist, he could see a hint of colored line on the back of Rodney's neck where his collar gapped, faded red at the edge of a sleeve. It wasn't being careful, not how to stay under the radar, but John was certain there were other places out of sight still decorated and he'd wanted to _see_.

Awake in the middle of his eighth night alone, John finally admitted he needed more.

Rodney answered his door half-asleep, grumbling then shocked silent when John pushed his way inside without a word. With the door closed behind him, John suddenly lost his impetus and shifted from foot to foot, scrubbed his hand back through his hair, waited for Rodney to recover and ask the question John needed to answer.

Thankfully, Rodney didn't miss his cue. He shuffled back to his bed and sat on the edge to look up at John, a puzzled scowl on his face. "I didn't hear anyone calling about an emergency. What's going on?" Yawning, he scratched his cheek, his eyes blinking sleepily then narrowing in concern when there was no reply. "John?"

Rodney's bathrobe drooped open enough for John to see he'd only worn boxers to bed, and John could just make out the faint red vine that he remembered had started in the dip of Rodney's shoulder and curled around the opposite nipple. The tips of John's fingers tingled as he recalled tracing those lines, his mouth watered at the memory of warm spice flavoring Rodney's skin. Kicking off his running shoes, he walked forward and dropped to his knees, nudging his way between Rodney's legs and shoving his bathrobe off his shoulders so he could see and touch.

When Rodney reached out to return the favor, John shrugged away from his hands and tried to press Rodney back onto the bed while tugging his boxers down. "Pushy bastard, aren't you? Fine, we'll do it your way," Rodney grumbled, leaning back partway with a smile to let John do as he wished. He kept touching John and saying things like "That's good" or "Yes, there" and it still wasn't right and John rested his forehead against Rodney's chest and sighed, knowing he was going to have to try to explain. After a few moments, he began, his words muffled and halting. "I…I really liked seeing you…like that."

"Like what? All painted?" Rodney sat up, his muscles stiffening as he protested, "I'm still wearing some of that crap and my skin hurts from scrubbing. I'm sure as hell not going to let you draw all over me again."

John kept his head down and pressed against Rodney as he shook it in disagreement. "No. You were…so quiet and…soft. Almost asleep."

"Of course I was. I was drugged!" Rodney sputtered. "Are you saying you'd prefer me gagged and stupid in bed?"

John sat back on his heels and looked up, his heart clenching in dismay at Rodney's indignant expression. "That's not…it was…you were all loose and easy and nothing else mattered…." John broke off in frustration, dropping his head and shrugging. "I could do whatever I wanted and you stayed so calm…."

"…like I was half-asleep and couldn't really move, let alone talk." Rodney's voice was soft and his hand was gentle as he carded through John's hair. "Here I was thinking that the weird ritual and drugged sex freaked you out and that's why you were avoiding me."

John shook his head again, carefully so he wouldn't dislodge Rodney's hand. "No…well, maybe a little." He looked up, biting his lower lip a little, as he thought about the past week or so. "I wasn't sure you were okay with what happened because we…don't do that."

Rodney's mouth crooked up in a slow smile, but he didn't say a word, just tugged his bathrobe off the rest of the way and tossed it in the general direction of his desk chair. Shifting back on the bed, he shoved his boxers down and off then twisted to lay flat, closing his eyes as his body went limp atop the rumpled sheets.

John slowly released the breath he'd been holding along with the tension that had been keeping him wound tight for days. Quickly yanking off his clothes, he dropped them in a pile on the floor then crawled onto the bed from the bottom. Starting with Rodney's feet, he gently traced the remnants of dye that wound around his toes and up his calves, and then he carefully shifted Rodney's legs so he could kneel between them. He glanced up when Rodney's muscle tensed under his hands for a moment, but Rodney's eyes remained closed, his mouth parted a little, his breathing slow and even, so John continued.

The bands of color were thicker across Rodney's thighs, as if the artist wanted to emphasize their strength, while the vines that curled across and down his torso and dipping into the curved hollow of his hip caressed more delicately. John pressed his lips against the cluster of lines next to the tight-curled patch of hair, tested them with the tip of his tongue, and was only mildly disappointed at the absence of remembered spice because Rodney tasted just fine without it.

When John moved upward, lightly flicking his tongue along the faint path, Rodney jerked with a huff of aborted laughter, and John smiled against his belly because he'd forgotten Rodney was ticklish there. He pressed harder in silent apology, continuing upward then switching tracks to pick up a different trail that wound around Rodney's left nipple. Under his fingertips, John could feel the strong beat of Rodney's heart, the slow, even breaths mimicking sleep, and he caught his breath at the strength of the emotion he felt at Rodney's implicit trust.

Following the lines across Rodney's chest, the hairs rough against his tongue, John finally reached the left side of Rodney's neck, his pulse strong against John's lips as he halted there to breathe, suspended inches away from Rodney's body by arms that began to protest the strain. John whispered kisses over eyelids that twitched as if Rodney were deep in dreams and then slowly shifted back to sit on his heels.

Although Rodney had stayed quiet and still as John had asked, John's actions hadn't left Rodney unaffected. His erection lay thick and heavy on the slight curve of his belly, moving with each slow breath. The ring of color beneath the purpled head had stayed the most vivid, which John could certainly sympathize with because there was only so much scrubbing that particular body part could take.

When John dragged his forefinger up the vein that bulged along the shaft, his fingernail scraping slightly, Rodney's breath hitched and his erection jerked up as if to follow, pleading for more. Unwilling to tease any further, John shifted back down the bed far enough to allow him to bend and lick along the same path his finger had taken then he sucked in the soft puffy head. Rodney stayed still under the provocation and, when John peeked up under his mask of lashes and hair, he could see Rodney was maintaining his pretense with only a few breaks in his breathing.

Eager for more, John took in more, pressing and swirling his tongue against the tight-stretched skin as his head bobbed ever lower. He cradled Rodney's balls in one hand, feeling them draw up tighter even as Rodney's erection stiffened in his mouth, pressing harder against his palate with each pass, until Rodney broke his illusion with a deep groan, his hand suddenly clenching in John's hair. Warm salt flooded John's mouth, the taste familiar after many nights of deception, and he continued to suck and swallow until tug at his hair signaled a stop.

Carefully detaching himself from the clutching fingers, John rose high enough to deal with his own ache, his fingers tight and hand moving fast, so close to the edge that it took only a few jerks before he groaned too, spurting over Rodney's belly and softening cock. He shook as he hung over Rodney, his heart still racing, and he smiled when he looked up to see Rodney peering back at him, eyelids barely open and his mouth curving up in the look of contentment John had been seeking.

With relief a shimmering warmth spreading through his body, John rolled to the side and off the bed in search of something to clean up. He was quick about his washing, knowing Rodney didn't like the feeling of semen cooling and sticking to his skin, and then he brought the warm wet towel back with him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he kept his swipes across Rodney's skin gentle, and he smiled again at Rodney's quiet sigh of relief.

After tossing the towel toward the hamper, John rested his hand on Rodney's hip and waited for him to say something. When he didn't, although John was certain he wasn't sleeping, John frowned and asked worriedly, "Hey, are you okay? I mean…with this?"

Rodney sighed and opened his eyes, annoyance erasing most of the contentment. "Yes. At least I was. Why?"

"I…It's not…." John scrubbed a hand over his mouth as he tried to come up with the right words. "I don't want it to be…just me."

Rolling to his side and propping his head up on his hand, Rodney studied John for a few moments then answered, "I liked it, okay? It wasn't something I would have come up with myself, but I'd certainly do it again." His mouth twisted. "Maybe next time I won't have to wait so long for you to show up."

Surprised at first by the bitterness behind Rodney's words, John winced when he suddenly realized that he'd been the one controlling when they got together, that Rodney had always deferred to his unspoken schedule. It hadn't been conscious on John's part, at least not beyond the effort to avoid being obvious. Stroking Rodney's side in apology, John said quietly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…it was…." He sighed and shook his head. "It wasn't right and you deserved better."

"Yes, I do." Rodney reached down to draw the sheet and blanket over himself and relaxed down to his pillow. "Now I need to sleep."

Rodney's mouth was still crooked downward in a line of discontent and John felt as if he'd missed something as he pulled his hand out of the way. Deciding he couldn't leave until he knew what was wrong, John asked, "What about you?"

"What about me?" Rodney squinted at John as though he was a badly balanced equation and shifted impatiently. "What are you asking?"

"What do you…want?"

Rodney stilled and John could almost see his thoughts as emotions flitted across his expressive face; puzzlement, worry, and then resolve. He rolled to his back and looked up at the ceiling, avoiding John's eyes as he said quietly, "I want you to stay."

It sounded like such a simple thing, but John knew it was anything but, and he'd been the one to open them up to change. He thought about what would happen if he got up and left like he always did, how it would go back to nothing more than two guys getting off together a couple times a week. Not taking the risk had always been more about getting hurt than caught, and it was already too late.

"Shift over a bit."

**Author's Note:**

> BJ Friday prompt: For a change, it'd be nice to see John mention something and Rodney go, whoa, not my thing but, hey, I'll give it a try.


End file.
